I stared at her long after she finished speaking, my mind swirling with tangled threads of memory, disbelief, and déjà vu.
Lilith Vox Reginia.
Of course it was her. That name crashed into me like a wave from my old world. In my past life, I met her in Buenos Aires by accident, or so it seemed at the time.
She was old then, ancient really, with white hair that clung to her scalp like dry silk and eyes fogged by the weight of visions. No one on my team knew where she came from. We only knew what we saw: a walking relic. A woman who seemed to know the future better than we knew ourselves.
But I remembered what the others didn't.
She had told me something no one else heard. She told me she came from North New Island.
Back then, no one left. The island had been isolated since the Ashven Blood Rain, completely severed from the rest of the world. Everyone assumed the population there was either extinct or entirely feral.
So when she looked me back in my past life in the eye and said, "I passed the Rune Weaver's Trials and escaped that island," it rewired how I saw her.
She escaped. And she did it alone.
She said she gained power from the Trials, but that she was too old to use them by the time she made it out. Her muscles had weakened, her spine bent, her skin too fragile for combat. And though she could still see through time, her ability to act on those visions had withered. Her strength wasn't in what she did, but what she warned.
But that version of her, the elder Oracle, was gone.
And the girl in front of me—barely sixteen, sun-kissed and full of life—was nothing like the woman I had known. Yet she held the same eyes, the same rhythm of speech, the same stillness that always made you feel like she was watching seconds before they happened.
Lilith looked at me with curiosity, as if she sensed I knew something she didn't. She didn't remember what she told me. That much was clear. She sat beside me in the meadow's tall grass, her hands resting loosely in her lap as she began to share what she did remember.
"I was born in North New Island. My family came here on vacation in 2015 just before the Ashven Blood Rain fell. When the first Flux storm rolled in, everything went to hell. The two generations before me tried to get themselves off the island, but the ports collapsed. Every plane was grounded. The sky became poison. They died trying to escape. Some remained though."
Her voice didn't tremble. She wasn't sad when she said it. Just… hollow.
"I was left in the care of an old lady in the town after my parents decided to try to leave the island too. She raised me until I was fourteen. Then she passed, too. And at fifteen, the God of Time appeared."
"Really?"
"Yes. He came to me during a storm. I was staring at a broken compass my mother left me. It hadn't worked in years. And then suddenly, the needle spun and pointed to the stars. I blacked out. When I woke up, I could… see the present and future."
"I became the Oracle then," she continued. "But I was young. I didn't understand what it meant. I wasn't supposed to take the Thread Weaver's Trials. It's forbidden unless you're seventeen. But I couldn't wait. I wanted to leave. I needed to escape. So I did."
"And the price was your youth."
"Yes. I woke up seventy years older, and I was free… but broken. Too late to change anything. But now? I regressed back to when I was twelve just before my guardian died. And this time, I'm not going to leave."
I was silent.
"She died by the way. My guardian I mean. Nothing changed. But I can stay. And I have a year until I'm seventeen again. That's all I need."
"To train?" I asked.
"I have been preparing for combat, survival, understanding my Flux, and most of all… the Trials. The ones I passed once before, but barely. I can go back to the trials."
"Can you teach me the Trials?"
She shook her head.
"I can't. They're different for everyone. The Rune Weaver tailors each trial to the soul of the candidate. The environment changes, the lessons shift. All I can do is prepare you in body and mind."
I let that settle, the knowledge as daunting as it was exhilarating.
"And you'll start tomorrow," she added, that soft smile playing at her lips. "Because we don't have time to wait until you're ten. You've been chosen again, Verdamona. The God of Time didn't bring you back for a vacation. He brought you back for war."
Her words echoed in my chest. I didn't shiver. I didn't blink. I just nodded.
-------
As the sky bled into shades of apricot and fire, my mother arrived. She walked up with concern carved into the soft lines of her face, her eyes flickering from the Oracle—Lilith—to me.
"Is everything alright?" She asked, brushing my bangs back with a mother's touch, gentle and unconsciously protective. Her fingers hovered near the tiny black horns that had sprouted since my return to this life.
Lilith stood calmly.
"You don't need to worry about her," she said with a voice that made people listen.
"Her horns are not a problem. They are a manifestation of power. She is more than eligible to undergo the ritual when she turns ten."
She blinked. "The ritual…?"
"It is a process meant for the strongest of children. She qualifies. But, I need to begin training her now. She's a slow learner."
I shot her a look. Rude. I am a slow learner? Couldn't you have come with a better excuse?
Her expression tightened with worry.
"A slow learner…?"
"It's not uncommon," Lilith added quickly. "Many children with latent power struggle to focus early on. It's no mark against her. On the contrary, it means her strength is still in development. I need her to come to me every day and leave at sundown."
She hesitated only for a moment. Because this was the Oracle, after all. Even if she was young, she bore that impossible presence. Everyone in the town revered her. She had saved lives with predictions, advised elders, even helped find missing children before they wandered past the island. Her word held weight. And now she was claiming me as her student.
Her worry shifted into gratitude, relief, maybe even pride.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Please… take care of her."
"I will," Lilith promised.
We said our goodbyes, her arms wrapping around me like warm blankets. I buried my face in her shoulder for a moment longer than usual, breathing in the scent of her hair and squeezing my eyes shut against the tears that almost came. She didn't notice. I was small and four years old. That gave me excuses.
And when we parted, I waved at Lilith as she walked down the slope back to the village.
The world was already shifting, and yet all I could think about was how I never wanted her to hurt.
---
The walk back home with mother was quiet, but warm. We passed through the town where she was greeted before heading back to out house on top of a small gentle hill. Once we were inside, she handed me a wooden cup of spiced milk and sat me down on the floor cushion near the little hearth.
"So," she began, tucking her legs beneath her, "what did you and the Oracle talk about, little moon?"
I blinked up at her, wide-eyed, wrapping both my tiny hands around the warm cup. Time to play the part.
"Umm… she said I'm really special," I mumbled, dragging out my words just enough to sound like I had to think about them. "And that my horns are cool."
She smiled, gently brushing my hair again.
"They are cool. Like a little dragon."
I giggled and leaned into her touch.
"I like her," I added, just the right level of innocent. "Can I train with her everyday?"
"Yes," she said, a little too fast. "Of course. As long as she's the one training you, I'm okay with it."
I nodded and yawned, making a dramatic little stretch. That always worked to sell the toddler bit.
She tucked me into bed not long after, pressing a kiss to my forehead, whispering something in our old family language that I hadn't heard in lifetimes. Words of protection. Of love.
And when the lights dimmed and I was alone in the quiet, I stared at the wooden ceiling above my bed and let myself feel. Because in my past life, I didn't have this.
I didn't have warm spiced milk and bedtime kisses. I didn't have a mother whose touch made me feel like I could melt into the stars and still be held together by love. I didn't have anyone who smiled when I entered a room.
I had no one. But here?
Here, I had parents. A real family. And I adored them more than I ever thought possible.
My father, steady and kind, who built toys with real hammers and sang lullabies off-key. My mother, bright and fierce, who smelled like sugar and sunlight. They loved me just for being… me.
And I would never, ever take that for granted.
That's why I made a silent vow that night, as the stars moved above the house like shifting constellations.
I would never tell them who I truly was.
They didn't need to know about the past life. About the wars I fought. The blood I saw and shed. The mistakes I did.
They didn't need to carry that weight.
Because I wasn't going to drag my trauma into their joy. They deserved better.
I was going to save the world—again—but this time, I was going to protect them first. Even if it meant lying with a smile. Even if it meant playing pretend just a little longer.
Because I finally had something worth protecting.
And gods help anyone who tried to take it from me.